


Stanford’s got me, I think

by ILoveMisha2



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gabriel/Sam Winchester-centric, Gen, POV Sam Winchester, Sam-Centric, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2576474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveMisha2/pseuds/ILoveMisha2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’ll no longer be a freak. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I’ll forget like dad swore I would. I hate that man’s opinions. I mean how in the hell can you forget watching your brother almost get killed by some creature you once thought only existed in nightmares?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stanford’s got me, I think

Stanford’s going to save me.

I’ll no longer be a freak. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I’ll forget like dad swore I would. I hate that man’s opinions. I mean how in the hell can you forget watching your brother almost get killed by some creature you once thought only existed in nightmares?

I know now that life is a nightmare. I’ve seen it first-hand. It killed my mother, consumed my father, and turned my brother. I hate to admit it but I still have bad dreams even though I’m as far away from the surroundings my dad brings home with him as I possibly can be.

It’s always a bad dream about dad or Dean, sometimes mom although I only know her by her name. I don’t remember what she looked like, and Dean would never talk about her, plus I knew better than to ask dad.

Recently I’ve seen Jess.

In my nightmares she’s just like mom, on the ceiling with fear plain on her face. I always reach for her with my hand and scream her name before the flames creep up and engulf her with a fury. I can even feel the blistering heat in my dream, waking up with a start and drenched in sweat. It scares me for her.

Seeing that, even in just a dream makes me realize what dad must have gone through, and the heartache he felt. I don’t wonder what he was thinking because I can probably guess. I still don’t understand why he sacrificed me and Dean to this and I don’t care to.

He doesn’t deserve my understanding.

When Dean and I were little Dean had this- this thing about him, holding him back and tearing him up from the inside. I know now that thing was what happened to mom and dad’s constant reminder of it whenever he whined about the hunts.

I remember the little things Dean would never admit to.

Like the time he covered for me so I could go to a school dance when he never got to go to one, or when he stole a few books for me when dad threw out my others because he thought It wasted time when I could be reading the “hunting” books he had.

I remember each playful tousle of hair and the arms that would close around me in a silent promise and comfort when I cried, even though Dean knew dad said crying was for babies. When I was really little he’d color with me and he’d sneak us to the park because he knew how much I loved to swing, even if he’d have to pay hell for it from dad when we didn’t show up to the motel before him. He’d make the best macaroni and cheese, even if it was just microwavable.

I remember the day I was going to cross the street without waiting for Dean’s okay and his hand around mine because he was taking me for ice cream, which is something dad would never do, and I just couldn’t wait. As I ran out he grabbed my arm and pulled me back even though no cars were really that close to me. He wrapped me in a hug so tight I thought I was going to die, I was tiny compared to him then.

I remember after that hug he got so angry at me but he still took me for my ice cream like he promised. He was so afraid of losing me because of what dad drilled into his head, even at the small age of ten.

I still hate dad for taking Dean away from me.

The hardest part about leaving wasn’t the fight with dad, it was the hurt that I could see in Dean’s eyes. I almost didn’t go but dad pushed me to it. I had to prove to him he was wrong.

I haven’t seen either of them in two years with no letters, no calls, nothing, and now I’m not so sure Stanford can save me anymore.


End file.
